


Grinds

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis steals seconds where he can.





	Grinds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Everything’s worse now, the daemons most of all—what Prompto could’ve once taken out in a single shot is now big and bad enough to swallow up Talcott’s entire truck. The old classification was an Iron Giant, or something like it—the new mutations aren’t worth naming. Prompto’s job is just to take them out. They’re too near the station. And Prompto needs to hone his skills—needs to make sure he’s really in peak condition, because now that his king is back, it’s all going to hit the fan.

Maybe Noctis wants the practice too, or maybe he just wants any semblance of the _old times_ he can get. A proper tribute to the old days would have Gladiolus and Ignis with them, the four of them crammed into the best car they could find, pitching a tent under the stars. Ignis is preparing their supplies and Gladiolus is out with Iris. And Noctis and Prompto aren’t so much hunting the daemons now as ducking behind trees and waiting for them to pass.

There are just too many. At least they’re not particularly bright creatures. Another one goes lumbering past their hideout, and Noctis grabs Prompto around the middle and pulls him back, his spine flattened against Noctis’ chest, the two of them crammed into a wedge along the rocky cliffs behind them. Another giant follows the first, and Prompto’s breath catches—they need to pick the beasts off one by one. Now’s not the time for risks. Not now, when he has something worth losing.

Noctis’ chin hooks over his shoulder, the faint stubble there tickling his bare skin. Noctis’ arms twine tighter around his waist, pulling them flush together—Prompto can feel every breath that Noctis takes. He can feel Noctis’ fingers twisting in his shirt. The night air is cool, but Noctis is _warm_, just like he always was. 

A branch breaks off to the left, and Prompto’s gun flies into his hand. He holds it at the ready but doesn’t move out of the shadows. Noctis tenses for a second, but when nothing comes of the noise, he relaxes. His palms spread to rub circles across Prompto’s stomach, vaguely soothing. The bottom of Noctis’ right hand grazes Prompto’s belt. 

A few fingers pry under it—Prompto freezes. 

The other hand scrunches up Prompto’s shirt, then crawls below. Noctis’ blunt nails scrape up his abdomen, and Prompto shivers in their wake, body arching forward as Noctis pushes beneath his boxers. Noctis’ body rocks into him once. One hand grazes over his breast, the other tightly encasing the base of his shaft. Noctis cups him fully and squeezes—a strangled whine breaks out of Prompto’s throat.

He clamps his mouth shut. Noctis traces a lazy spiral around Prompto’s left nipple, then closes in to pinch it, hips starting to rut into his ass. While Noctis tugs at his pebbling nipple, Prompto whispers a strained, “_Noct—_”

He means to say _not here_, but can’t, because Noctis is toying with his balls and pressing a wet kiss against the back of his neck, and Prompto’s _weak_.

He missed this. He missed Noctis so much he could cry. He missed being stupid and horny, but they’re not that young any more, and it’s not safe. If something went wrong and Noctis was taken from him _again_, Prompto couldn’t bear it. 

Noctis rasps in Prompto’s ear, “Six, I _missed you._”

If he were ten years younger, Prompto would close his eyes and surrender to it. He’d give himself over to his prince, fully and with no questions asked, just like always. 

But things are different, and he manages a hoarse, “Later. Please.”

Noctis pauses. His fingers tighten almost possessively around Prompto’s cock. 

Then he withdraws, wiping his hands on the side of Prompto’s pants. Prompto’s shoulder gets another fleeting kiss. 

A single giant passes their hiding spot, limping and alone. 

A sword appears at Prompto’s side. His king commands: “_Now_.”

They emerge in deathly silence and work together like a charm.


End file.
